


Can't See No Reason (to put up a fight)

by no_big_deal



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Solo Tries To Be A Gentleman, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Mutual Masturbation, No Babies, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Rey climbs Ben like a tree, Sex Pollen, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Ben Solo, Virgin Rey (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/pseuds/no_big_deal
Summary: “I--we need to talk about what's happening here," here Ben rasps, his right hand squeezing her upper thigh.“Been swinging that saber at me for months,” she mutters, “and now he wants to talk.” She pauses for a moment and drops his shirt.  Everything resolves in a sparkling burst of clarity.They should be fucking.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 16
Kudos: 101
Collections: Sex Pollen to the Rescue





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updated 5/18/20 with this gorgeous graphic from the talented [@darthdarcyy](https://twitter.com/darthdarcyy)!! Please visit her for a link to her commission form she is so talented and easy to work with! Thank you Ang! 
> 
> Unending & forever thanks to [@noeticedda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda) for the amazing beta! Without her gentle guidance this fic would be sorely lacking in many significant respects. Any confusing passages or mistakes are mine & mine alone. -NBD

It’s another battle in another forest; Kylo’s taken a running swing towards Rey, his red saber flashing right to left as the tip sizzles across the ground and comes screaming up towards her face. She sets her shoulders, thinks _bring it big guy,_ drives her saber in front of her body, does her best to ignore _just how distractingly muscular his arms are,_ and parries his blow straight up. Their sabers surge above their heads, sparkling and hissing. She’s certain she feels the back of her hand slide against the side of his glove and, annoyingly, goosebumps course down towards her elbow as she feels Kylo’s arm vibrate against hers. _Great,_ she thinks. _Kriffing great._ In moments like these, she wishes it were easier for her to set aside emotion. If only she was a better Jedi. If only Kylo Ren wasn't so… _so Ben Solo_. 

She gathers her bearings and takes a quick look around before pressing her saber further into Kylo’s, her eyes locked with his _, by necessity, of course._ Her brain reminds her of Master Luke’s comment about Ben’s _pretty eyes_ every chance it gets. But she maintains her composure. She doesn’t let herself get distracted. _They're just eyes. I mean, they’re nice. But Luke was mocking me--lots of people have swoon-worthy golden brown eyes that are perfect windows into their souls. Right?_

“No mask today, _Ben_ ?” she grunts, hoping to look half as intense and intimidating to him as he looks to her even without his lined metal helmet, his hair somehow perfectly coiffed, his black waves shiny in the sun, a mocking counterpoint to the rat's nest currently growing out of her head. Her hair is up in her looping three-bun style; this has the benefit of keeping her hair out of her face while she’s training, but she _knows_ that it’s not very intimidating. In compensation, she bares her teeth and his lips fall apart. His eyes go startlingly wide in a way that makes her stomach do somersaults. His _pretty eyes._

_Thanks for nothing, Master Skywalker._

They are fighting in what might in other circumstances be considered a very pretty meadow on an uninhabited planet in the Cademimu sector, near Ajan Kloss. She'd come here alone to train, to meditate in solitude, and when Kylo Ren had appeared as she practiced levitating rocks while doing a one armed handstand, she didn't bother to ask how he'd found her; she just hoped the Resistance was safe, flipped to her feet, drew her lightsaber, and ran at him.

Light green grass beneath her boots provides sufficient traction to really allow her to lean into her attack. Clumps of long-stemmed purple flowers--the ones they haven’t trampled anyway--shimmy in the gentle breeze. There's a good sized tree nearby with thick, lengthy branches covered in large dark leaves bobbing just overhead, its generous moss-covered trunk undulating in deep, smooth grooves down to a flared base that erupts into an abundance of surface level roots. The roots sink down into the soil, rising up again before plunging back into the ground--protrusions of soft and knobby wood surrounding the tree for at least two yards in all directions. 

As it stands, the mild, mid-morning sun is to her back and she has the high ground as the lawn gently slopes down towards the base of the tree. If she can thrust him back a step or two, she thinks, he might stumble on the roots. Rey doesn’t let herself think about what she’ll do if she achieves this advantage, the image of Ben Solo sprawled out on his backside in front of her causing a momentary dizziness that's not especially helpful in the middle of what she’s always careful to assume is a duel for her life. So she presses forward.

She’s fortunate, she thinks, that in the weeks since Crait, their Force connection hasn’t manifested. Since leaving Ben behind she's felt... not conflicted, but definitely felt _something. Something that feels dizzy and swoony and stomach-flippy and goosebumpy all at the same time. And it's foolish,_ she thinks, _I'm_ _foolish. He didn’t want...this,_ he wanted her power, and her lightsaber, and _not the weepy girl herself with her inconvenient and very foolish feelings._ She takes a quick moment to check herself, and inhales deeply. Even though their Force connection hasn’t linked them across galactic space, when they are together, close, like this, stronger feelings do flow between them and she knows he can feel what she feels, because if she's concentrating, she can feel _him_ , too.

He takes two quick steps backwards and Rey shuffles forward, keeping her balance, leaning hard into him, hoping that eventually his heels will catch on the uneven ground. She’s focused so utterly on his face that she's caught unawares when the tips of their upended sabers strike a tree branch above their heads, slicing it halfway through in a shower of flaming splinters. He turns to rock them away from the sparks, and is hit in the back with the branch as it swings down towards them and falls to the ground. From over his shoulder, the branch's stump is smoldering, and its singed leaves rain a sweet-smelling ash on Rey's face. She coughs, blinking madly as the hot cloud irritates her eyes. With a roar, she swings their tangled arms down, sending their sabers flying in opposite directions. Rey takes two steps back, rubbing her eyes, trying to blink away the tears, and keep him in sight. It should be impossible, but her glimpses of him show him trying to do the same thing. After two or three intense coughing jags, his body stills as he tears his gloves off, presses the backs of his fingers flat against his eyes, one at a time, and, after what feels like an eternity of wheezing, she finally takes a deep breath. 

Which is why the sensation of pressure in her crotch, an intense tingling she can feel on _her most intimate parts what is happening_ takes her by surprise. Her eyes slam shut and without thinking about it she grabs herself, like she has to _pee_ _real bad_ , but it's _not that_ , _not that at all,_ she thinks as she presses up into her cunt with her fingers and with a groan, grinds down on her clit with the heel of her hand. The pressure is _good, but not enough_ , and she falls to her knees, squeezing herself again, when _oh shit_ she remembers where she is, and _oh no,_ who she's with. 

"What is _happening_ ," she pants. "Ben, what are you _doing._.." 

She hears a low groan in reply and she pops her eyes open, still frantically massaging herself. Ben is crouched down by the tree, in a deep squat, and Rey sucks in a breath and stares and stares and stares as Ben, an agonized look on his face, is pawing gracelessly with his left hand at the front placket of his pants, trying to find the opening. He’s already pulled his knee-length armored tunic open revealing a black undershirt tucked into his black pants. His right hand already moving down inside said pants behind what looks like _way too tight_ of a waistband. He's found _finally_ , thinks Rey, _finally_ found the clasp that was holding his pants together when she lets out the breath she's been holding for almost a minute, and the rough hiss of air leaves her throat quite loudly and Ben realizes _she's_ looking at _him._

Ben hesitates for a moment, working his jaw, his eyes filled with ferocity, and Rey can’t take her eyes off him. With a growl, Ben twists away from Rey, his left arm swinging out to grasp the hem of his cape to wrap it around his body, hiding him from Rey's view. It registers in one corner of her fuzzy brain that he looks like a big black egg. 

"Stay back," he barks, his voice trembling, half an octave higher than she's ever heard it before, but Rey's already moving towards him, deliberately disobedient because the air he displaced by the swing of his cape has enveloped her and it smells _delicious_ even though it smells mostly like _sweat, it's warm and sweet_ and she just has to get closer to the source. She wants to put her _nose_ in his _armpit, what in the world between worlds is that about_. With her goal in mind, she falls forward, her head mere inches from his back. With her weight on one arm, she squeezes her pussy, takes a deep breath of _Ben,_ and just _comes_ , pleasure sparkling up her spine as her ass bobs up and down, chasing the sensation she's getting off her own hand. It's glorious, _finally,_ to feel her legs shake as she experiences the release she's been chasing for the last... _ninety seconds_ , _how is that possible only ninety seconds_ when she's been feeling so needy _forever._

She's moaning more than she means to; Ben's head is out from under his cape and he's staring at her, mouth agape and _how has she never noticed how red his lips are, how soft they must be, I should tell him I'd like to kiss those lips,_ she thinks, so of course what she says is, "What's the matter Solo, never seen anybody come before?"

His face falls a little; he snaps out of whatever reverie he's in and blushing madly, _very un-Kylo-like,_ retreats back under the cape. Every single one of Rey’s instincts is screaming at her to get closer so she crawls forward on her knees, pulling herself across the soft grass and towards him with her left hand. 

She finally reaches him, still hiding, _very obviously rubbing one out,_ and _she wants under that cape so bad it must smell so good in there,_ but as she squirms her head under the hem of the cape he snaps, "cut that out," and the black egg shuffles away from her.

"But I'm not doing anything," Rey gasps, rolling onto her back, her head as close as it can get to Ben's boots, her left hand realizing that since it's no longer needed for crawling it can squeeze her left breast and _boy that feels good_ Rey thinks as she arches her back, her eyelashes fluttering involuntarily, and Ben's eyes are now _wild_ , he keeps _looking at her,_ and he's reaching his free left hand towards her.

"You're doing that, _that_ , right now," he says, adding, "I said cut it out," batting her hand away from her breast, and _oh, that's an opportunity_ , Rey thinks as she latches on to his wrist and deposits his hand on her torso, squeezing his hand and groaning as she feels her nipples tighten under his touch. Her right hand migrates to her waistband, her fingertips dipping under, the desire to touch herself overwhelming.

"Rey, Rey, stop this," Ben groans, his hands are now on her upper arms, pulling up, bringing both her hands toward her stomach, and he falls forward on his knees and shakes her slightly as she lays on the ground. "Snap out of it." He looks almost sorry, his thumbs brushing small circles on her shoulders. She twists her head to the left. His right hand, the one that was _just in his pants,_ is on her shoulder and she just wants to _lick_ _it_. 

"You snap out of it," she snarks back, her hands having made the independent decision to help Ben finish taking his pants off. She giggles a little as she shakes off her wristguards, curls her fingertips into the waistband of his briefs, and feels his abdominal muscles ripple on the backs of her hands and _that's a new one_. 

"I'm trying to," he says, as he grasps her wrists and holds them to the ground above her head with his left hand, his right hand going back under his cape, out of sight, still, intriguingly, moving in a way she wants to _truly understand_. 

Her thighs rub together fruitlessly; her internal muscles clamp down on nothing, no one has touched her pussy for nearly a _whole minute_ , so Rey takes three long seconds to enjoy the sensation of Ben's hand pinning her wrists to the ground. _Break time over,_ she takes a breath, bends her knees, and pushes up off the ground, using the Force only a little _surely that's allowed in emergencies_ to launch her legs up and around the back of Ben's shoulders. 

Her momentum swings her body around his upper back. From his knees, Ben rises to his feet with a shocked huff of air, one hand latching onto Rey's knee, _and that's promising,_ the other hand still attached to her arm near her wrists. Her belly is pressed to his upper back, to his neck, and she laughs in delight at the feeling of lightheadedness that came from the sudden change in altitude, the satisfaction of grinding her pussy down on Ben's right shoulder, feeling her breasts bounce on his neck, and taking in the view down his armored chest. She could come again like this, she thinks, with Ben’s hands on her bare skin, even if it is just her wrist. 

"I'm trying to snap out of it," he repeats, accusingly. "You're making it hard." Rey laughs again, _not going to dignify that with a response,_ she thinks, as she reaches down for the hem of his undershirt and pulls it up. 

"Rey, Rey, mmm, yes, thank you,” he says distractedly as she runs her palms from his ribcage down his sides below his waist, meeting in the middle, her thumbs tickling the groove between his left and right abdominals her fingertips moving further down, causing him to draw a sharp breath, and he refocuses. “I-- _we_ need to talk about what's happening here," here he rasps, his right hand squeezing her upper thigh. 

She’s leaning pretty far over Ben’s shoulder now, gravity helping her head and arms journey south down Ben’s torso, trying and failing to keep his undershirt tucked up under his body armor so she can see any part of his skin, while his right hand on her leg helps her keep balanced on his neck. 

“Been swinging that saber at me for months,” she mutters, “and _now_ he wants to talk.” She pauses for a moment and drops his shirt. Everything resolves in a sparkling burst of clarity. _They should be fucking._

This brilliant thought of hers must somehow be communicated to Ben, maybe it’s how her hands reanimate, and move down towards the waistband of his pants, still open, maybe it’s the waves of hormone-fueled emotion pulsing through their Force bond, maybe it’s how she yells, “Ben, we should be _fucking,_ ” right in his ear; who can say. Either way, he tenses up, and _it’s clear I’m going to have to do all the work here,_ she thinks, letting herself fall further down his torso, still fighting with his shirt. But instead of letting her slide any further down, Ben hunches over a little and pops her off his shoulders, swinging her around his body like a well-practiced dance move. She ends up facing him, her legs around his waist, his hands spanning the juncture connecting each of her thighs with her ass. She can feel how wet she is now, with her legs spread around him and she drops her head on his shoulder and moans. 

“Rey,” he begins again, getting her attention. His face is so close to hers now, moving closer and retreating with every gulping breath he takes. He leans in and runs his nose through her hair. She squirms against his body, unclasps his cape, and gives it a little shove. It flutters to the ground behind him, spreading across the ground like a fresh bruise. 

“You don’t _want_ to?” Rey asks as she wonders if Ben might be okay with the armpit-smelling plan. She’s managed to get his armored tunic open as far as she can, what with her legs working at cross purposes to her hands, her thighs squeezing the heavily pillowed fabric shut at his waist and her heels dug firmly into the back of it, dimpling the softest part of his ass since she's kicked off her boots. She’s really learning to hate that undershirt as well, she's not making any progress _at all_. 

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Ben's undershirt rips open from his collar down below his sternum, falling away to expose the swell of his chest. And _shit shit shit,_ Rey thinks, _that shouldn't have happened_ considering her left hand is on his arm and her right hand is already back down inside her own pants.

Ben pulls back, shocked. “Did you just--” Ben stares at her, his tone unusually apprehensive and his pupils blown wide, “--use the Force to…” 

She gasps. “ _No._ _No,_ I wouldn’t--” she whispers. But Rey can’t take her eyes off Ben’s exposed chest, the pale, smooth skin _right there_ before her, and her hand has finally wedged its way between their bodies, her fingers finding her curls and her cunt, slick with arousal. She dips down to wet her fingers, and brings her fingertips up to her clit, and frankly, _who knows what she would or wouldn’t do to finally get skin to skin with Ben Solo,_ she admits to herself while moving against her hand, against Ben’s body, his hands still occasionally, _compellingly_ , squeezing her ass, and every time he tightens his grip it makes her wetter than she’s ever been before. She slides her left hand into his hair, drops her cheek to his chest, her fingers bumping up and over her wet clit. “I wouldn’t do that, Ben,” her voice breaks over the words and she ends on a frustrated groan. “But right now, I need--I just _need…_ ” 

He pulls her closer, impossibly closer, towards him. His fingers curl up under her thighs, mere inches from where her own are still pushing and pulling, chasing her pleasure. She feels the heat of his body against her cheek and she presses her face into his skin, her body convulsing, her mouth opening up over his bare collarbone. 

The heat is pooling low in her belly, when Ben whispers, “It’s okay, Rey, it’s okay. Just let go.” 

The orgasm hits her suddenly, spreading sharply through her body as it radiates out from her center, pushing the air from her lungs. She feels a little lightheaded, her legs twitch involuntarily around Ben's body a few times, as she gently strokes herself, enjoying the pleasant wetness on her hand, the taste of Ben's skin on her tongue. She pulls back slightly and sees that she's sucked a bruise on his clavicle. Left little teeth marks. She pulls back a little further and sees that Ben is looking over her shoulder. She moves her head towards him and he jerks away. _He won't make eye contact._

So as she comes down from the high of her climax, the idea that Ben doesn’t want her as much as she wants him is finally breaking through and it _hurts, ok, it hurts_. But she’s always been the one wanting and pointlessly waiting, hasn’t she? Her lot in life. _Why should this thing with Ben be any different?_

“You didn’t answer my question,” she sighs. “You don’t want to… to do this.” The " _with me"_ goes without saying, she thinks. 

Ben pulls back to finally, blessedly, look at her. 

“It’s not that, it’s just--” he blushes and Rey acknowledges that maybe these are positive trends, but the afterglow of her orgasm is fading so fast, replaced with that sense of hollow aching and she feels a distracting surge of pressure in her cunt again, and the desperate desire to clamp down on something, _to be filled._ Ben adjusts his hold on her slightly, sliding her downwards, and she gulps down a breath as she feels _him. Long and hard and pressing up against her center._ She takes a moment to shamelessly grind against Ben's cock, reveling in the groan it elicits from his throat. 

He tries again, "Rey, it's not that..." 

She shakes her head, _she wants to listen to him,_ but the _feelings_ are returning. This strange, wonderful, fraught mood that has her moving against Ben’s body again. 

He clears his throat. “It’s just that, perhaps we should consider…” and he trails off, looking strangely frightened as she scrunches her nose at him.

Rey clears her throat. If Ben Solo is _scared to have sex,_ Rey is going to kill him. Immediately after the sex, she will kill him. 

He continues with the obvious, “Rey, we, we aren’t in our right minds.”

“Were we ever?” she mutters, leaning back so she can shake off her arm wraps, glad that whatever’s turned her into this shameless sex fiend hasn’t completely destroyed her keen observational wit. She feels, more than hears, Ben's intake of breath as she detaches her belt and shrugs her dark grey outer wrap off her shoulders and starts to shimmy out of her black tunic, the movement causing her center to rub against his cock in a tantalizing way. 

It feels like one of the most difficult things she’s ever done, but Rey pushes off Ben to stand in front of him; her wraps and tunic fall to the ground, leaving her in her plain grey trousers and white undershirt. She pushes his armored tunic off his shoulders, leaving him in his torn black undershirt, open pants showing the front of his briefs underneath, and boots. She mentally curses whoever invented clothes. 

Ben is just _staring_ , jaw working, his body vibrating; still working on pure instinct, Rey drops to her knees, pulls Ben’s thighs towards her, and runs her hands up and down them a few times, her fingers sliding easily over the smooth fabric of his pants. From this vantage point she can see now what her initial impression a moment ago was correct. Behind those black briefs, Ben is _huge._

“I could--” she gestures at him, and then just reaches for his underwear, giving them a sharp tug, not really pulling them down, but tightening them around his cock, bringing it closer to her face, and she licks her lips. She's not really sure what she's offering, but she's confident in her ability to fake it until she figures it out. 

She looks up at him. He’s staring down at her so intensely, and she is suddenly struck with a wave of memory: the last time she was on her knees in front of Ben-- _Snoke’s throne room--_ and she realizes the thought didn’t originate from her. _Ben is thinking about it. He’s remembering it._ She’s jolted again by _his anger at the memory. He doesn’t want to be thinking about Snoke’s throne room right now._ His fists are clenching on either side of Rey’s head. So she leans forward and nuzzles his cock with her nose.


	2. Chapter 2

This, apparently, _finally_ , is enough to turn Ben into a man of action. In one swift motion he has her by the elbows, and takes her to the ground, stretching her out on his cape under the tree. He’s kneeling above her. 

“No,” he says, eyes blazing. “It’s too--” His eyes bore into hers, pleading with her to understand. “Too much.” He clears his throat with a growl of frustration. “Too soon to see--how--how he, wanted." He shakes his head as if clearing Snoke’s memory away. She nods once, quickly, and he visibly relaxes, running his hands up and down her arms. 

“Is this okay then, Ben?” she asks, nodding at him, encouraging him to agree, as she moves her right hand back down under her trousers, and, grabbing his wrist with her left, places his hand over his cock, and slips her hand underneath his, giving him a little squeeze that draws a gasp as his hand clenches tight over hers. “Yeah, this will be okay then, yes,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and trying to focus on the feeling of him, distractingly solid through his briefs, trying to figure out how to move her hand up and down his length at this awkward angle while she moves her hand from side to side over her clit. It only takes a few seconds to realize this is not going to work. She squeezes one eye open. “Ben, help--” is as far as she gets, before he’s moving again, with stunning swiftness. 

He pulls back and grabs the sides of her trousers at the waist, looking to her, but she’s already nodding _yes._ He removes her pants along with her underclothes in one sweeping motion and tosses them to the side. His own pants he tugs down past his hips and they bunch up at his knees. She barely gets a good look at his cock, flushed a deep rose color, before he grabs her left leg at the knee and maneuvers it over his right shoulder, her right leg slowly angling away as she opens up to him. 

“So beautiful,” Ben whispers, moving Rey’s hand away from her center, and the depth of emotion in his voice, the ghost of his breath along her thighs, has Rey clenching and crying for him _again,_ as he moves in, one large left hand under her ass, lifting her towards his face as he kneels between her legs, his right hand around his cock, the tip glistening, and he licks her from just underneath her cunt to the very top. Rey _comes apart_ , her eyes rolling back in her head, her legs twitching, as she releases a series of what she hopes are encouraging if rather high-pitched moans. 

Ben repeats the move, then again, pressing her with his tongue more forcefully each time, and Rey is clawing at the fabric of Ben’s cape beneath her and she thinks _nothing has ever felt this good, ever._ His tongue is so smooth; in response to his attentions she can feel how the lips of her cunt are so silky, soft, and pulsing with desire. He mouths at them, pulling at each plump fold and pressing his tongue deeper and deeper between them, licking forwards and backwards, now each retreat punctuated with a suck on her clit that has her thighs trembling. She forms words, _not sure how_ , but manages to communicate the concepts of _yes, Ben, deeper,_ and _more_. 

Ben is still stroking himself in time with the thrusts of his tongue and she feels him move his hand from her ass to her cunt, his large fingers toying with her folds, making wet noises, as she squirms, trying to get closer to him. She thinks she feels the breeze on her backside where his hand used to be and is about to follow that train of thought _somewhere,_ just as he slowly slides a finger inside her, and _that_ destroys the possibility of having any other thoughts that aren’t about what it is Ben is currently doing. She groans, her voice deep and rough as his finger slowly moves into her center, following the curve of her inner passage, fingertip sized strokes one after another until his finger has penetrated her as far as his hand allows. Her hands, still sliding on his cape grasp downwards, searching for him, wanting to touch. 

“You’re so wet here,” he says, and the softness in his voice surprises her; she’s not sure what to make of that. “Astonishing,” he says, “so sweet,” sounding almost dazed, and Rey, trembling on the brink, opens her eyes to confirm the suspicion that Ben has one hand between her thighs, the other between his. 

“Ben, what’s holding me…up?” She asks, waving her hands under her lower back to confirm, _yes, her ass is hanging in the air, and no, his hands are not doing the holding._ She stretches her neck to get a better look at him. “Are _you_ using the Force to--” Before she can finish the question, Ben slips a second finger inside her, alongside his first one, and Rey wheezes a sudden intake of breath as white hot pleasure radiates out from her core in a direct line to her brain. Ben curls his fingers inside her, pressing and rubbing in a devastatingly disjointed rhythm as his mouth, those lush lips, fix over her clit and he just _sucks._ Surges of pleasure radiate out through Rey’s body and she _screams_ his name as she’s hit with wave after gratifying wave of bliss, and her arms and legs shiver uncontrollably as the blood rushes away from her extremities and pools into her core, this climax deeper and richer than anything she’s previously experienced. 

Ben’s mouth releases the suction gradually and he gently laps at her clit, soothing her, as she regains her bearings. He’s gradually sliding his two fingers back and forth, slowly slipping further out of her with each pass, until his hand disappears completely. “ _Ben_.” Rey begins. “Ben that, that, was…” 

But there’s no time for her to finish the thought. Ben is softly grunting in time with his fist, pumping his cock and straining with the effort. Rey’s left leg is still hooked over Ben’s right shoulder. She pulls it back and crashes to the ground, her ass bouncing uncomfortably over the tree roots as Ben angles himself off the cape, and with a wordless shout paints his fist and the nearby grass with his come. 

His hands are shaking. He wipes his right hand on the grass nearby and Rey watches, curiosity poking holes in her blissed-out haze as he brings his left hand, _the hand that was inside her body,_ up to his face, holds his palm to his mouth, and then turns his hand to suck on the knuckles of his first two fingers. Rey’s head is _about to explode._

Sitting straight up, she grabs the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head, leaving her in a simple bandeau breast wrap that’s tied in back. She nods expectantly at Ben, eyebrows raised, and he removes his shirt, too. _So far so good._ She reaches behind her back and pulls the ties of her wrap so it falls aside. She looks down at herself. Her tits are small but round, her nipples a pale pink. She looks back up and reaches for Ben, but it’s unnecessary because he’s already reaching for her. 

She goes back to the ground with a sigh, his thumbs on her sternum, his fingers tickling her ribs, and his whispered words of praise sighed directly into her skin. His thumbs bump up and over her nipples and she shivers with the thrill of it, the feeling so decadent, that “Ben, don’t stop,” is all she can think to say. He complies, bringing his mouth to her nipple, swirling his tongue around it slowly and sucking it into his mouth, his teeth pulling her further as he just _devours_ her. The pleasure makes her greedy.

His left hand is pinching and rolling the nipple not currently beneath his tongue, and he's pulled her so close that she can touch him, too. Stretching out her arm in the small space between them, she finds his hip. She gives it a squeeze and follows the curve of his hip bone down until she's found the top of his thigh. He licks her sternum and his hands push her tits together so he can more easily mouth at them, his thumbs circling her nipples. She gets a particularly sharp nip of his teeth on the inside of her right breast when her hand achieves its goal, and Ben's half hard dick and balls are resting on her palm, and she gives them a gentle squeeze.

The sounds Ben makes into her ribcage as she touches him are very gratifying. She massages his balls a few times with her fingertips, finding them oddly cool to the touch in comparison with his cock. She leaves them behind to trail her hand up his shaft to try and find a good angle to grip at it. Ben falls forward slightly, just enough, and she's got him, her small hand covering one side of his cock as her fingers wrap around the other. He's getting harder by the second, she can feel his heartbeat in the vein running up the side of his dick as she pumps at him, first gently, then with a little more confidence as he presses himself further into her palm. 

They continue on, taking turns distracting each other with heightened touches, Ben's face in contact with Rey's ribcage, tits, and collarbone, biting and sucking, whispering "perfect, perfect, somehow I knew you'd be perfect." Rey, insensible to everything but the blood rushing in her ears and the weight of Ben's cock in her hand as she works him back to full arousal, each of them sighing and shuddering when the other moves in a particularly pleasurable way. 

And this is fine, this is good, but Rey's cunt is screaming at her to up the ante again, to take this thing further, and her hand changes pace and her wrist cants at a different angle and she's leading Ben down, down to where she wants him, closer and closer, until his silky cockhead rubs against the bare patch of skin just above her clit and Ben struggles for breath as his hand covers Rey's, stilling it, his eyes clamped shut.

And Rey knows Ben likes what she's doing, knows the pleasure is real, she can feel it, she knows he wants nothing more than to get her tits back in his mouth and for her to keep rubbing her thumb up and over his cock which is why it comes as something of a surprise when he looks at her, pleadingly, and says, “Rey, we should slow down.” 

Rey thinks she's never disagreed with him so vociferously, _and that's saying something._ "I have an implant," she whispers, "you wouldn't have to worry about...you know." But that's _, apparently,_ the wrong thing to say because now Ben looks positively _Kylo Ren levels of murderous_ for a few seconds before he winces, his eyes looking anywhere but at her, his hand painfully tight around her wrist as he draws her hand away from his erection and Rey doesn’t understand why _it’s always two steps forward, one step back between them._

"Ben," she says, squirming to get closer to him. "I don’t want to slow down. It feels like--" _it feels empty and lonely, and maybe if this is what wanting you and not having you feels like, maybe the Jedi were on to something with that “eschewing all attachments” nonsense._ "I shouldn't want it, Ben. But I do." 

One corner of his mouth quirks up and he nods. "We're... under the influence, Rey. Remember the tree? It will wear off. Now just be still…" But she can’t, not when he’s so close, when she’s feeling so hollow _and so is he_ and she can solve this problem, she can. 

She sits up and rolls over quickly, too quickly for him to stop her. He tips over onto his back, rolling closer to the moss covered tree trunk, still partially on the cape, his pants still tangled with his boots. Rey crawls towards him, wanting to stretch herself out over him, but he catches her, holding her inches away from him, not allowing them to make any more contact than his hands on her sides, spanning the distance between her waist and her hips.

"Rey," he grunts out, and _he sounds really mad now,_ "is it too much to ask--” He sighs. “You don't mean this." He looks away from her, like he's not sure how to say this next part, and the words come out slowly. "Fooling around… is one thing. Taking it further…” He trails off, his face momentarily falling soft before he reasserts himself, and she feels him draw on a deep reservoir of stoicism. His lips purse a few times while he chooses his words. “I know you don’t want to. So, stop." He closes his eyes and his fingers squeeze her hips, holding them away from his. "I was quite willing to… be of service, earlier. But. Please."

She takes a moment to get a good look at his whole face, a look she can't risk taking when they battle, admiring the clear, solid lines of his cheekbones and nose. She begins kissing the line of the scar she left him, starting just above his right eye, mourning the loss of the beauty marks she hadn't known she was obliterating when she'd wounded him back on Starkiller. He gasps, his breath now coming in shallow bursts. She wants to kiss every blessed spot on his face, _a thousand times._

"Everyone seems to think they know me," she mumbles into his skin.

"Please," he says again, and his now voice is wrecked, "don’t kiss me. You've never wanted this." His vision of her, crying in the burnt ruins of the throne room on the _Supremacy_ , flashes through her mind. "This is the intoxication. You will regret it, when this wears off." She pauses her kisses, having reached the base of his throat.

"But what if, what if I do want it?" She asks quietly, hating the tenor of her voice knowing _how unattractive he finds her insecurities, her uncertainty._ She clears her throat but the words still emerge rough and low. "What if...I'd wanted it for awhile now?" He looks at her, shocked as she whispers, "It's not just fooling around. Not to me."

His response is choppy, through gritted teeth, "I'll hate my--I’ll hate myself even more if you're wrong about that, Rey. Afterwards." 

She stands, pulls him to his feet and bends by his side, loosening his boots, pulling them and then his pants off his legs, and tossing them to the side. Her bottom is resting on her heels and _shit,_ it’s too much like kneeling in front of him again she realizes and goes to move, when Ben drops down to mirror her position, his thighs resting on his calves, and they’re knee to knee on his cape, under the tree, completely naked in the warm sunshine, and together. 

She takes a moment to admire him. The dark hair, soft and wavy. Those _kriffing pretty eyes_ and red lips _._ The shoulders and chest broad beyond what’s reasonable. She lets her eyes drift further downwards. He’s still hard, the tip of his cock glistening and resting on his belly and she feels a corresponding heat in her blood and wetness on her cunt. She looks up to see his eyes darting left and right, drifting downwards over her body in a similar tour, his fists clenched at his sides, and she’s absolutely _burning for him._

Looking back down at his cock she realizes that if she’s facing him, she’ll never be able to get herself high enough off the ground to get it underneath her: to span the width of his hips with her knees, she’d lose all contact with the ground. No contact with the ground means _no leverage to move and since Mr. Tall, Dark, and Impassive is just kneeling there breathing intensely,_ Rey figures she’ll need to find a position that allows her to manage the situation. _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this._

Calling on all her intuitive knowledge of mechanical engineering, and sending one final thought of _sorry, not sorry_ in the general direction of the living Force and the spirits of all the Jedi, she rises up on her knees, bends her left leg so it’s flush to her backside, and in one fluid motion, spins on her right knee so she’s facing away from Ben, reaches between her thighs to find his cock with her hand, guides it to her entrance, and sits back on Ben’s lap.

It doesn’t go quite as she’d imagined it would. 

For starters, Ben doesn’t slide smoothly all the way in. Even as wet as she is, she’s only taken a few inches. Her hand is still on the lower half, _more than half,_ of the rest of him, so despite her best efforts, she’s perched rather uncomfortably above him. Add to that, Ben goes absolutely _bonkers,_ heaving his chest back and forth, his arms and hands jostling her as they grasp and slide and land absolutely nowhere. _He’s talking again,_ she thinks, and though his words are fuzzy in Rey’s ears--just “Rey, Rey, _fuck_ , Rey,” repeated in various tones and cadences--their Force bond is a frenetic mix of shock, pleasure, indignation, and wry amusement. Remorse tempered by the elation of triumph and a sense of irreversible _rightness_. 

Her vision gets a little hazy around the edges. “Forgot that it would hurt the first time I did this,” she says, swallowing thickly. 

"Rey," Ben whispers, and he sounds truly horrified, " _Rey,_ why didn't you--" 

_No time for that,_ Rey thinks, _no time for all the things I didn’t do. We should be fucking._ She squeezes his cock with her hand and asks, "Do you trust me?" 

“Not particularly, at the moment,” Ben wheezes, “but what did you have in mind?” 

“Wrap your arms around me,” Rey directs, and Ben does so, one arm around her waist, the other across her shoulders. “Ready?” she asks.

“For _what_?” Ben hisses, as Rey deliberately, carefully, reaches her hands towards the ground and starts bending forward. Blessedly fast on the uptake _,_ Ben helps her control her rate of descent until she’s on her hands and knees in front of him, his hands gently holding her, his knees in between hers. He’s still partially inside her, and he’s all she can feel, he’s so overwhelming and she feels stretched so wide she can barely breathe. 

Ben has moved his hands to her hips now, his fingers tickling her hip bones as his hands bump and curl over her skin. Rey struggles to take a breath, and Ben leans over her, soothing and shushing, her, “Breathe, Rey, that’s it, that’s it.” She does, a few shaky breaths, and nods over her shoulder at him, his face dappled and devastating in the shade of the tree.

He reaches below her and lightly runs his fingers along the lips of her sex, drawing the moisture seeping from her pussy further up his shaft; she groans and sighs as he adjusts the cant of his hips to rest within her more comfortably, and she begins to squirm against him. At this, his hand curls firmly around her shoulder and his other hand goes still against her sex. "Rey. Now, we're going to do this my way. Hold still."

This is a lot to take. Literally and figuratively. He’s _so thick_ and she feels so stretched and pinched but her every instinct is for deeper, for him to touch that untouchable place inside of her that needs filling, needs attention. And he is moving so slowly. She relaxes her body and sinks back onto him, taking another inch, and he stops her again, now both hands on her hips. "Why are you always this way?" he mutters. 

“What way?” she gasps, trying again to push backwards, but is stilled by his hands.

“So stubborn,” he says, returning his hand to her center, this time smoothing his fingers over her already sensitive clit making her gasp and shake. “So single-minded,” he whispers into her hair. His other hand slides from her shoulder down and around to cup her breast, rolling her nipple, hardened almost to the point of pain, between his fingers. “Headstrong scavenger.” The stimulation has her cresting, near the peak again, as he slides further and further inside her. “Always fighting to get her way,” his voice is deep, insinuating, sinful. Her head is spinning with pleasure as he takes her higher and higher and she realizes she feels his pelvis, his legs against her ass. _We’ve done it, he’s there._ Their connection has never felt so complete; where she ends and he begins is _irrelevant_. 

He’s still for a moment, his fingers barely flexing on her breast and on her mound and Rey is gasping, on the edge, and ready for the wave to break. She can hear him swallowing and feel his thighs trembling. “Ben,” she says, vaguely glad it’s taken this long for her to start begging, but _she just doesn’t care anymore._ “ _Please_.” 

He shifts his hips slightly forwards, pulls back, and reenters her _hard._ They groan in unison as he repeats the move, and he does it again, and then again. The uncomfortable pinched feeling from earlier has been replaced by a deep, rolling satisfaction, a sense of rightness pouring from every spot both on and in her body where they’re in contact. He pauses between each thrust, preventing them from developing an actual rhythm, but Rey can’t feel her face anymore, and has no capacity for complaints. 

A few more thrusts and Rey’s arms give out; she drops to her elbows just as Ben begins another thrust, and the change in position, the drag of his cockhead against her inner walls at this particular angle, causes her body to _fly_. She feels the orgasm growing with each pass: each time she's sure it’s the climax, it’s not actually the climax. His hands are still gripping her hips tightly as his thrusts increase in speed along with the rippling she feels deep in her belly, as it radiates out, causing her cunt to spasm and clench around him. She sobs his name, over and over, into her arms.

She feels his hips stutter behind her, and his hand come around to pluck at her clit, the shock of the intensity of the pleasure cascading throughout her body causing her to rear up with a gasp. The air slams out of her lungs, her vision whites out, her head spins as she feels Ben hold her tight, as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, and shouts her name as he climaxes inside her.

Rey is still shaking. Huge, slow, full-body shudders that take awhile to subside, and he holds her through them all, up against his chest. Slowly, before it can get too uncomfortable, he’s sliding out of her, his hips moving backwards ever so gingerly. They whimper in unison when he finally falls free, his nose pressed at the nape of her neck as he whispers, “That was… that was…” 

It takes them a few moments to come back to themselves. Rey catches her breath, her back sliding against Ben's chest, as he helps her to a seated position on the cape, and she turns to him. She looks up, but he's looking past her again, just over her shoulder, a determined look on his face, and her heart sinks. _May as well rip off the bacta patch, no point in waiting._ "What is it?" she asks.

Ben looks at the tree, his hands, Rey’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” Ben asks. “That it was your first time. When you mentioned the implant, I...” His tone isn’t accusatory, but Rey feels defensive anyway; she hates knowing she’s messed up, how her upbringing constantly puts her at a disadvantage when it comes to the obscure social niceties that everyone but her seems to know. 

The girls her age who've joined the Resistance, the sophisticated girls she’s met from Chandrila, and Coruscant, even the pretty girls from _kriffing Naboo_ would have known just what to say before getting into bed with Ben Solo _and doesn’t that thought cause her blood pressure to rise._ She's just the desert rat with no bedroom manners. She laughs. She couldn't even manage to fuck him in an actual bedroom much less an actual bed. No wonder Ben can't look her in the eye.

"Well, it’s not like I was going to ask you if it was your first time," Rey deflects, angry but attempting a casual, joking air that fools neither of them.

"I thought you knew," Ben says, closing his eyes and looking deeply unhappy.

"You thought what? I knew what?" Rey asks, her voice taking on a frantic edge. 

Ben rubs at his temples before standing. He paces a little. Resting his hands on his hips, his breath coming out in a huff, he says, "Earlier. When you said that I'd never seen anyone come before.” He swallows thickly. “I thought you knew. That I hadn't. Before. Seen someone. Anyone." His lips are pursing and flattening at an alarming rate and Rey stares at him, hoping he'll start making sense soon. But Ben seems to realize that words won't help him, not anymore.

He raises his right arm, and suddenly, his saber appears in his hand, having flown in from the nearby bushes at his silent command. Standing over Rey, he ignites the blade with a downward pump of his arm, and it crackles to life with a rumbling buzz of pure energy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruh-roh


	3. Chapter 3

Rey begins scrambling backwards, feeling the rough bark of the tree against her back. She is not sure how she's going to explain to General Leia that she let herself get killed, unarmed and naked, after losing her virginity in an aphrodisiac-fueled mania to the Supreme Leader of the Galaxy who just so happens to be the General’s only son _and was also apparently a virgin._

But Ben isn’t looking at Rey, he’s bent over to grasp the corner of his cape and using the lightsaber, cuts a strip off the bottom about the length of his arm. She silently watches, not moving a muscle, as Ben disengages the saber and, sitting down, holds up the long strip of black cloth. He pulls a soft fabric lining out from inside the mottled exterior and tears the silky lining in half on its short side, leaving him with two shorter lengths. He folds each strip a few times, leaving him with two pillowy squares of fabric about the size of his hand. And he looks up at Rey, still frozen against the trunk, one arm back, one outstretched, the sole of one foot pressed flat against the tree, her legs poised to run, her posture clearly telegraphing her anticipation of an attack and he has _the audacity,_ she thinks, to look hurt by this. But he does. 

She blinks at him. “So… you’re… you're not mad about losing your virginity today?” she hazards.

“You thought…” He looks down at the cross guard, and back to her. He gives a rueful little chuckle and tosses his lightsaber back into the bushes. “Yours is over there,” he says, pointing in the other direction.

“I know where it is,” Rey snipes as Ben comes to kneel in front of her, pushing her legs apart. “What are you doing?” 

He ignores her. "Did you know this tree's leaves were an aphrodisiac?" he asks steadily, taking one of the fabric squares, and wiping it up the inside of her right thigh, folding the cloth over, and then repeating the motion up her left.

"Not before today," Rey mumbles, letting her head fall back against the tree as Ben continues his treatment, dabbing attentively at her tender bits. She winces a little as the cloth drags against her overstimulated flesh. “I’ve only been here for a few days.” She hums a small, awkward laugh. “It really got me though, didn’t it?” 

It isn’t really a question. After a silent moment, Ben exhales forcefully, stands, and turns away from Rey as he runs the second strip of cloth over his cock a few times, and tosses both rags aside. He swallows audibly and presses on his temples with his thumb and forefinger. 

“I was--yes. I thought so.” He’s nominally agreeing with her, but he’s looking dejected again and Rey doesn’t know how to stop it, doesn’t know how to fix it, and _I’m always disappointing you, aren’t I?_ she thinks, _never strong enough, never can say the right thing._

Rey tries again. “I’m… feeling normal. Back to normal,” she says, attempting a cheerful tone but it comes out reedy, shrill. She slides back down the tree to sit on the cape, doing her best to put on a brave face and not at all sure why she feels like she’s losing hold of something important. She gestures to Ben, inviting him to sit. He sits at the far end of the cape, crossing his arms over his bent knees. “But it’s over now,” she finishes, the memories of her earlier behavior washing over her. She remembers he'd said they were intoxicated. She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut, before looking up at Ben. “You were right. And I’m sorry.”

Ben just _glares_ at her, working his jaw like he’s fighting the words, and she waits him out. “Rey, I asked you--” he spits out and he’s shaking his head a little too jittery, too fast. “You said you wouldn’t be sorry,” he says heavily. His hands are shaking. “I knew I--” 

“Ben, _stop_ ,” Rey begins, scooting closer to him on the cape. She reaches out her hand towards his shoulder and he _flinches._ Her hand bounces in the air for a few beats before she sets it back in her lap. She looks down at her knees. “You must agree there are some things I should be sorry about,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead. 

But Ben’s lost his momentum and, visibly deflated, he lays back down on the cape, “Over now,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “I've ruined this already.” He covers his eyes with the crook of his elbow. “Not a surprise." Rey doesn't know what to say to that, doesn’t know how to help Ben battle these demons when her own are still bearing down. "It wasn’t supposed to be...like this,” he huffs out eventually.

"No, of course it wasn't." Rey sighs as Ben raises his forearm a few inches off his face and looks up at her, eyes wide, but he gives her a brave little nod and though she knows it shouldn't, her heart sort of melts. She's still _feeling_ enough that the sight of the underside of his bare upper arm so close to her face is enough to have her leaning forward to kiss it, and he freezes. 

She looks down at the moss growing on the nearby tree roots, brushes it under her palm a few times. She nods. "It's all wrong, Ben." She picks a large handful of the long-stemmed purple flowers growing nearby as Ben rolls away from her to lie on his side. She begins to weave the flowers together, the motions familiar, crossing the stems like she would bits of rope or leather when making the braided straps that secured her head wraps back on Jakku. 

From where she's sitting, she can see Ben is pressing down on his sternum; he's tucked his face away from her. "I apologize," he eventually gasps out. "you deserve so much--you should…" he stops and clears his throat. "This was unacceptable," he says, sounding so much more like Kylo Ren than he has all day. “I took advantage--and now you have regrets.” 

Rey looks at Ben's strong shoulders, the soft, pale flesh on his sides, the dimples of his lower back and _Oh_ , Rey thinks. _Oh. Maybe I can fix this,_ the idea so pleasing that she gives a little laugh. 

“Ben, stop that.” She puts her hand on his head, ruffles his hair, and rubs the tip of his ear between her fingers. “Stop that,” she says again, doing her best imitation of his imperious tone, and she sees his head perk up. “Snap out of it,” she says, her voice a bit more throaty than she meant for it to be.

He rolls to his back, looking up at her and he takes a deep breath when he sees her smiling down at him. “You snap out of it?” he says, like a player unsure of his lines, but looking hopeful, so, so hopeful that it almost breaks Rey’s heart to continue on.

Leaning down towards Ben’s face, settling in close, her eyes caressing his, almost nose to nose, she whispers, “I’m trying. But you’re making it very hard.” 

Ben smiles. He truly smiles, and looks like he wants to laugh but isn’t sure how to go about it. He brings his hand up to the side of Rey’s face and brushes a few curls of hair back behind her ear. He shakes his head, still smiling. “What--what happens next?” he asks.

Rey sighs, pressing her cheek into Ben’s palm and he goes still. “What happens next is that we need to talk about what’s happening here.” She swallows back the rushing panic and presses on. “We need to talk about what I meant when I agreed with you that it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

He moves to sit up, and she pulls back to allow him the space. She holds her flower wreath in both hands. "Okay," he says. "Tell me what you mean." 

_Where to begin._ "Ben, even if you weren't the heir to a royal family and I was just--if we weren't from completely different worlds," and she waves her hands, the wreath of purple flowers bouncing, as if to diminish the importance of that point when he starts scowling at her, "you're the kriffing Supreme Leader of the First Order. The Galaxy is oppressed, planets destroyed, children are taken from their homes, slavery is permitted in the Outer Rim, and…" she trails off, figuring the point has been made. Listing the crimes of the First Order could take all day and she's just not up for it. This really isn't a subject up for debate. "I made a promise to the Resistance, to support them. I want you. With me. But as long as you're with the First Order… well, that's why you and I… that's why it wasn't supposed to be _like this_." She takes a deep breath, staring down at her flower wreath. "And I'm sorry I pressured you into doing something you did not want. To do. With me. So there's no need for you to apologize." She winces. "On that score, anyway."

Ben nods, slowly. "That's. That's," he says, haltingly. "That's not what I thought you were going to say." At Rey's questioning look he runs his hands through his hair. “I did want to be with you Rey. More than anything.” He takes a deep breath before he admits, "I never thought you'd want anything to do with me. On a personal level," he clarifies. 

She rolls her eyes at him, and it's strange, but she can feel through the Force bond how much he appreciates it. "The problem isn't you, it was never you, Ben Solo, the problem is that _you're the First Order_ and that's always been kind of a deal breaker."

But Ben is still smiling at her, now bigger than ever which is not the reaction Rey expected since the last time she’d said basically the same thing he’d _yelled at her and broke her heart_ but this time, Ben isn’t yelling. This time, his voice is quietly confident when he says, "But that's what I came here to tell you. I disbanded the First Order." 

Rey takes that in. She stands up. So does Ben. She takes a step to the side, feeling a little wobbly. She vaguely registers that they are both still naked. She stares at her purple flower wreath, like it might have some answers. But it does not. “You did what,” she says.

“I instructed First Order personnel to board the Star Destroyer headed to their home planet or destination of choice. The weapons on the ships were confiscated. I sent a notice to the Resistance. They are re-establishing the galactic senate. It’s already happening.” 

She rears back a little. “What are you doing here then? Don’t you have… lots of things to do? Things that need doing? Things that are… _not here?_ ”

He looks at her, uneasily. “Well, true, there’s much to do. But that’s why I asked my-- I asked General Leia, where _you_ were...”

“Ben, she’s your _mother_ ,” Rey interrupts, feeling completely lost again. “She’s been wanting you to come home for _years_. How could--why didn't you go directly to her?”

He runs his hands through his hair, a little sheepishly, revealing a blush that reaches the tips of his ears, his voice perfectly even when he admits, "I wanted to surrender to you." 

Rey goggles at him for a moment. “But-but-but _Ben,_ ” she shouts, “we were _fighting_. With _lightsabers._ ”

Ben shrugs, a motion that should not be so adorable considering his shoulders are the size and shape of blast helmets. “I like dueling with you,” he says, blushing even further. 

“Ben, I could have _stabbed_ you,” Rey yells, gesturing wildly, the wreath of purple flowers shaking precariously. “Or _cut your arm off_.” He levels a glance at her and, “ _I could have_ ,” she roars at him, feeling the inexplicable need to defend her saber prowess while simultaneously protecting him from this hypothetical one-armed fate. She drops her arms to her sides and feels her throat close up around the words. “Ben. I could have stabbed you.” 

Ben just quirks an eyebrow at her, _infuriatingly_ knowing and _maddeningly_ calm. He obviously doesn't believe her, but she senses that he won't contradict her, either. “No matter what _could_ have happened,” he says, stepping close and taking her free hand in his, “I trust you. Even today, when I said I didn’t... I did.” 

Without taking his eyes from hers, he reaches out his hand for his lightsaber. Just as before, it appears at his silent command. This time, he drops it at her feet. He’s standing before her, still naked, his hand in hers. "There,” he whispers. “Now you have everything." 

“I have to sit down,” Rey mutters, and does just that, dropping down in the center of his cape. Ben refuses to let go of her hand, and he follows her to the ground. She’s still grasping her wreath, worrying the stems with her thumbnail. “Ben,” Rey breathes, not quite believing this yet. “Why?”

Ben moves in closer, cuddling her into his side as he says, "For you." 

After a few silent moments, she moves her face down from where it’s been snuggled against his neck, and drags her nose along his sternum, around one of his nipples, slowly and steadily moving to his side until she hits the space between his rib cage and his arm. _This has been an extraordinary day,_ she thinks, taking a deep breath. 

“Rey?” Ben asks. “Are you… smelling my armpit?”

Rey pulls back entirely, smiling at Ben, very broadly. She’s sure her grin will crack her jaw as she raises her wreath of purple flowers and drops it on his head. Slowly, she moves her hands down to hold his face, tracing the corners of his eyes, caressing his cheek, and asks, "How was it supposed to be, Ben?" 

"How was what supposed to be?" he asks, pulling her up and settling her in his lap.

"You said this wasn't," she gestures at them, the tree, the cape, their nudity, "how _it_ was supposed to be. So how was it?" 

Ben smiles down at her. “Ah. Well, I thought, if the opportunity ever presented itself, I would kiss you.” He heaves a deep breath. “If that was something you ever wanted.” 

Rey blushes furiously at that. _How can he be so sweet_ when hadn’t she just climbed him like a tree? “I _would_ like to kiss those lips,” she says, pointing at his face. “I meant to tell you that.”

At this point, that Ben leans in very slowly does not surprise Rey; she is glad the effects of the aphrodisiac have mostly worn off though, because she is _determined_ to let Ben take the lead this time, she swears to herself, she will. Her heart is _pounding_ though, so she just closes her eyes, and tries to remember to breathe. 

Ben’s lips do, seconds later, brush hers, gently, and though she’s keenly anticipating the touch, she still jumps in surprise at just how good it feels. They sway back together for more, their lips smoothing over each other slowly, moving between each other, as the tips of their tongues meet, and Ben pulls her closer on a gasp. Rey takes a deep breath and just opens to Ben, allowing him to run his tongue over her teeth before she pulls back and sucks his lower lip into her mouth, giving it a little tug. Ben makes a lovely choked sound, and Rey is certain she’s never felt so _naturally_ giddy. 

Ben swings his knee over Rey’s hips and lays her down. He moves his kisses down Rey’s neck. He uses his tongue on her body, as if every swipe of it helps him to memorize her every curve, its rough texture over her nipples alternatively soothes then sends electricity sparking over her skin, building pressure in her cunt. He kisses his way down her ribs as she cards her fingers through his hair. He whispers his approval into her belly button and she wraps her legs around him. He pulls back and smooths his hands down her thighs, kneading and pressing them, then returns to find her center, his thick fingers revealing her arousal and she opens up to him, giving him the gift of her responsiveness, _no more waiting,_ letting him know just how much she wants this, wants him, all of him, _always_.

When he enters her, slowly, smoothly, reverently, dropping kisses down her cheek and neck, Rey squares her shoulders, thinks _bring it big guy,_ and meets him thrust for thrust. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hi on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/spoonfulofsalad)!


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